FML

It has been an intense time since end August. September disappeared with the last exhale of breath – I have no fucking idea what I managed to achieve. Oh yeah, that’s right – it was around work and building my career and developing more skills in HR and building my role.

Except doing that seems to have torpedoed everything else.

This weekend was spent holding up my youngest. Anxiety has driven her to the edge again and this time there is more at stake. Add that deep need to have someone help and give direction to a need to be independent and you get conflict on a major scale. Then there is all the other crap that gets added to it. It is hard to be strong when you feel so weak and you know you are not allowed to fix it, you can only create a space.

It’s my child. It’s not like it is at work – where I am dealing with two similar situations. At work I can be objective, I can take a step back and let them work it out. This is my daughter. My little girl (and heaven help me if she sees this!). I want to make it better. I don’t want her to suffer, and it is not my place to take that away. She has to work through this. She has to find the path that is best for her going forward. Fuck me it is hard.

My son also had an issue this weekend. So I helped there too. Just after mentioning that I missed my kids, both reached out when they needed me.

Which of course leads to me feeling like I am just here for everyone else. No one listens when I ask for something or need something. When they want, I am there; when I want, it’s crickets. I am aware that I am tired and therefore everything is a mountain, when it could just be a tiny stone stuck in my shoe.

R and I are again at odds. We just can’t seem to land on the same page at the moment. I see his point and I get that he wants to make it easier. Instead I feel like a child and all I am is a responsibility he has to care for. I don’t know how to verbalise what I need without sounding like I am begging for it. To be honest though, I feel like all I do is say the same thing and I know in his head he feels the same. So we will remain at odds, find a way to sweep it under the carpet and start the cycle again.

Pessimistic much?

Work is definitely full on. Yet here I can see my contribution. I can see the difference I am making and I feel appreciated and wanted. I feel like they want me here – even if it is just to fix a lightbulb and sort out the hot water. Naturally I end up spending more and more time here just to feel that, which makes home even more untenable.